QUEEN CATHERINE IN DANGER OF DEATH.
(1546.)
It might be asked how it came to pass that the queen did not put a
stop to these cruel executions. The answer is easy--she was herself
in danger. The enemies of the Reformation, perceiving her influence
over the king, bethought themselves that the execution of Anne Askew
and of her companions did not advance their cause; that to make it
triumphant the death of the queen was necessary; and that if Catherine
were ruined, the Reformation would fall with her. Shortly after the
king's return from France, these men approached him and cautiously
insinuated that the queen had made large use of her liberty during his
absence; that she diligently read and studied the Holy Scriptures;
that she chose to have about her only women who shared her opinions;
that she had engaged certain would-be wise and pious persons to assist
her in attaining a thorough knowledge of the sacred writings; that she
held private conferences with them on spiritual subjects all the year
round, and that 'in Lent every day in the afternoon, for the space of
an hour, one of her said chaplains, in her privy chamber,' expounded
the Word of God to the queen, to the ladies of her court and of her
bed-chamber and others who were disposed to hear these expositions;[448]
that the minister frequently attacked what he called the abuses of the
existing church; that the queen read heretical books proscribed by
royal ordinances; further, that she, the queen of England, employed her
leisure hours in translating religious works, and in composing books
of devotion; and that she had turned some of the psalms into verse,
and had made a collection entitled _Prayers or Meditations_. The king
had always ignored these meetings, determined not to see, what was
nevertheless clear, that the queen was an evangelical Christian like
Anne Askew, who had lately been burnt.
[Sidenote: ZEAL OF THE QUEEN.]
Catherine was encouraged by this consideration on the part of the king.
She professed her faith in the Gospel unreservedly, and boldly took up
the cause of the evangelicals. Her one desire was to make known the
truth to the king, and to bring him to the feet of Jesus Christ to find
forgiveness for the errors of his life. Without regard to consequences
she allowed her overflowing zeal to have free and unrestricted course.
She longed to transform not the king alone, but England also. She often
exhorted the king 'that as he had, to the glory of God and his eternal
fame, begun a good and a godly work in banishing that monstrous idol of
Rome, so he would thoroughly perfect and finish the same, cleansing and
purging his church of England clean from the dregs thereof, wherein as
yet remained great superstition.'[449]
Was the passionate Henry going to act rigorously towards this queen
as he had towards the others? Catherine's blameless conduct, the
affection which she testified for him, her respectful bearing, her
unwearied endeavor to please him, the attentions which she lavished on
him, had so much endeared her to him that he allowed her the privilege
of being free spoken; and had it not been for the active opposition
of its enemies, she might have propagated the Gospel throughout the
kingdom. As these determined enemies of the Reformation were beginning
to fear the total ruin of their party, they strove to rekindle the
evil inclinations of Henry VIII., and to excite his anger against
Catherine. In their view it seemed that the boldness of her opinions
must inevitably involve her ruin.
But the matter was more difficult than they thought. The king not only
loved his wife, but he also liked discussion, especially on theological
subjects; and he had too much confidence in his own cleverness and
knowledge to dread the arguments of the queen. The latter therefore
continued her petty warfare, and in respectful terms advanced good
scriptural proofs in support of her faith. Henry used to smile and
take it all in good part, or at least never appeared to be offended.
Gardiner, Wriothesley and others who heard these discourses were
alarmed at them. They were almost ready to give up all for lost; and
trembling for themselves, they renounced their project. Not one of them
ventured to breathe a word against the queen either before the king or
in his absence. At length, they found an unexpected auxiliary.
[Sidenote: THE KING OFFENDED.]
An ulcer burst in the king's leg, and gave him acute pain which
constantly increased. Henry had led a sensual life, and had now become
so corpulent, that it was exceedingly difficult to move him from one
room to another. He insisted that no one should take notice of his
failing powers; and those about him hardly dared to speak of the fact
in a whisper.[450] His condition made him peevish; he was restless,
and thought that his end was not far off. The least thing irritated
him; gloomy and passionate, he had frequent fits of rage. To approach
and attend to him had become a difficult task; but Catherine, far from
avoiding it, was all the more zealous. Since his illness Henry had
given up coming into the queen's apartments, but he invited her to come
to see him; and she frequently went of her own accord, after dinner,
or after supper, or at any other favorable opportunity. The thought
that Henry was gradually drawing near to the grave filled her heart
with the deepest emotion; and she availed herself of every opportunity
of bringing him to a decision in favor of evangelical truth. Her
endeavors for this end may sometimes have been made with too much
urgency. One evening when Wriothesley and Gardiner, the two leaders of
the Catholic party, were with the king, Catherine, who ought to have
been on her guard, carried away by the ardor of her faith, endeavored
to prevail upon Henry to undertake the reformation of the church. The
king was hurt. His notion that the queen was lecturing him as a pupil
in the presence of the lord chancellor and the bishop of Winchester,
increased his vexation. He roughly 'brake off that matter and took
occasion to enter into other talk.'[451] This he had never before
done; and Catherine was surprised and perplexed. Henry, however, did
not reproach her, but spoke affectionately, which was certainly on his
part the mark of real love. The queen having risen to retire, he said
to her as usual, 'Farewell! sweet heart.'[452] Catherine meanwhile was
disquieted, and felt that keen distress of mind which seizes upon a
refined and susceptible woman when she has acted imprudently.
The chancellor and the bishop remained with the king. Gardiner had
observed the king's breaking off the conversation; and he thought, says
a contemporary, 'that he must strike while the iron was hot;' that he
must take advantage of Henry's ill humor, and by a skilful effort get
rid of Catherine and put an end to her proselytism. It was a beaten
track; the king had already in one way or another rid himself of four
of his queens, and it would be an easy matter to do as much with a
fifth.
Henry furnished them with the wished-for opportunity. Annoyed at having
been humiliated in the presence of the two lords, he said to them in an
ironical tone: 'A good hearing it is when women become such clerks; and
a thing much to my comfort, to come in mine old days to be taught by my
wife.' The bishop adroitly availed himself of this opening, and put
forth all his powers and all his malice to increase the anger of the
king. He urged that it was lamentable that the queen 'should so much
forget herself as to take upon her to stand in any argument with his
Majesty;' he praised the king to his face 'for his rare virtues, and
especially for his learned judgment in matters of religion, above not
only princes of that and other ages, but also above doctors professed
in theology.' He said 'that it was an unseemly thing for any of his
majesty's subjects to reason and argue with him so malapertly,' and
that it was 'grievous to him (Gardiner) for his part, and other of his
majesty's counsellors and servants to hear the same.' He added 'that
they all by proof knew his wisdom to be such, that it was not needful
for any to put him in mind of any such matters; inferring, moreover,
how dangerous and perilous a matter it is ... for a prince to suffer
such insolent words at his subjects' hands, who, as they take boldness
to contrary their sovereign in words, so want they no will, but only
power and strength, to overthwart him in deeds.[453] Besides this, that
the religion by the queen so stiffly maintained did not only disallow
and dissolve the policy and politic government of princes, but also
taught the people that all things ought to be in common.'[454] The
bishop went on to assert that 'whosoever (saving the reverence due to
her for his majesty's sake) should defend the principles maintained
by the queen, deserved death.' He did not, however, dare, he said,
to speak of the queen, unless he were sure that his majesty would be
his buckler. But with his majesty's consent his faithful counsellors
would soon tear off the hypocritical mask of heresy and would disclose
treasons so horrible that his majesty would no longer cherish a serpent
in his own bosom.
[Sidenote: THE KING'S DISTRUST.]
The lord chancellor spoke in his turn; and the two conspirators did
every thing they could to stir up the anger of the king against the
queen. They filled his head with a thousand tales, both about herself
and about some of her lady-attendants; they told him that they had
been favorable to Anne Askew; that they had in their possession
heretical books; and that they were guilty of treason as well as of
heresy. Suspicion and distrust, to which the king's disposition was too
naturally inclined, took possession of him, and he required his two
councillors to ascertain whether any articles of law could be brought
forward against the queen, even at the risk of her life.[455] They
quitted the king's presence, promising to make very good use of the
commission entrusted to them.
The bishop and the chancellor set to work immediately. They resorted to
means of every kind--tricks, intrigues, secret correspondence--for the
purpose of making out an appearance of guilt on the part of the queen.
By bribing some of her domestics they were enabled to get a catalogue
of the books which she had in her cabinet. Taking counsel with some of
their accomplices, it occurred to them that if they began by attacking
the queen, this step would excite almost universal reprobation. They
determined, therefore, to prepare men's minds by making a beginning
with the ladies who enjoyed her confidence, and particularly with those
of her own kindred--Lady Herbert, afterwards countess of Pembroke,
the queen's sister, and first lady of her court; Lady Lane, her
cousin-german; and Lady Tyrwit, who by her virtues had gained her
entire confidence. Their plan was to examine these three ladies on the
Six Articles; to institute a rigorous search in their houses with a
view to find some ground of accusation against Queen Catherine; and, in
case they should succeed, to arrest the queen herself and carry her
off _by night, in a bark_, to the Tower. The further they proceeded
with their work of darkness, the more they encouraged and cheered each
other on; they considered themselves quite strong enough to strike at
once the great blow, and they resolved to make the first attack on the
queen. They therefore drew up against her a bill of indictment, which
purported especially that she had contravened the Six Articles, had
violated the royal proclamation by reading prohibited books, and, in
short, had openly maintained heretical doctrine. Nothing was wanting
but to get the king's signature to the bill; for if, without the
sanction of this signature, they should cast suspicions on the queen,
they would expose themselves to a charge of high treason.[456]
Henry VIII. was now at Whitehall; and in consequence of the state of
his health he very seldom left his private apartments. But few of his
councillors, and these only by special order, were allowed to see him.
Gardiner and Wriothesley alone came to the palace more frequently
than usual to confer with him on the mission which he had entrusted
to them. Taking with them their hateful indictment, they went to the
palace, were admitted to the king's presence, and after a suitable
introduction they laid before him the fatal document, requesting him
to sign it. Henry read it, and took careful note of its contents;
then asked for writing materials, and notwithstanding his feebleness
he signed it. This was a great victory for the bishop, the chancellor
and the Catholic party; and it was a great defeat for the Reformation,
apparently the signal for its ruin. Nothing was now wanting but a writ
of arrest, and the chancellor of England would send the queen to the
Tower. Once there, her situation would be hopeless.
So cleverly had the plot been managed, that during the whole time the
queen had neither known nor suspected any thing; she paid her usual
visits to the king, and had gradually allowed herself to speak to
him on religion as she used to do. The king permitted this without
gainsaying her; he did not choose to enter into explanations with
her. He was, however, ill at ease. The burden was oppressive; and one
evening, just after the queen left him, he opened his mind to one of
his physicians, in whom he placed full confidence, and said: 'I do
not like the queen's religion, and I do not intend to be much longer
worried by the discourses of this _doctoress_.' He likewise revealed
to the physician the project formed by some of his councillors, but
forbade him, upon pain of death, to say a word about it to any living
soul. Apparently forgetting the wives whom he had already sacrificed,
Henry was thus coolly preparing, at the very time when he was himself
about to go down to the grave, to add another victim to the hecatomb.
[Sidenote: BILL OF INDICTMENT.]
The queen, although encompassed with deadly enemies who were contriving
her ruin, was in a state of perfect calmness, when suddenly there
burst upon her one of those heavy squalls which in the twinkling of an
eye dash the most powerful vessels against the rocks. The chancellor,
contented with his triumph, but at the same time agitated, snatched up
the paper which, now bearing the king's signature, ensured the death of
the queen. Vehement passions sometimes distract men and produce absence
of mind. In this case it appears that Wriothesley carelessly thrust
the paper into his bosom, and dropped it while crossing one of the
apartments of the palace.[457] A pious woman of the court, happening
to pass that way shortly afterwards, saw the paper and picked it up.
Perceiving at the first glance its importance she took it immediately
to the queen. Catherine opened it, read the articles with fear and
trembling, and as soon as she saw Henry's signature, was struck
as by a thunderbolt, and fell into a frightful agony. Her features
were completely changed: she uttered loud cries, and seemed to be in
her death-struggle. She too, then, was to lay down her life on the
scaffold. All her attentions, all her devotion to the king, had availed
nothing; she must undergo the common lot of the wives of Henry VIII.
She bewailed her fate, and struggled against it. At other times she had
glimpses of her own faults and uttered reproaches against herself, and
then her distress and her lamentations increased. Those of her ladies
who were present could hardly bear the sight of so woful a state; and,
trembling themselves, and supposing that the queen was about to be put
to death, they were unable to offer her consolation. The remembrance of
this harrowing scene was never effaced from their minds.[458]
Some one brought word to the king that the queen was in terrible
distress, and that her life seemed to be in danger.[459] A feeling
of compassion was awakened in him, and he sent to her immediately
the physicians who were with him. They, finding Catherine in this
extremity, endeavored to bring her to herself, and gradually she
recovered her senses. The physician to whom Henry had revealed
Gardiner's project,[460] discovering from some words uttered by the
queen that the conspiracy was the cause of her anxiety, requested leave
to speak to her in private. He told her that he was risking his life
by thus speaking to her, but that his conscience would not allow him
to take part in the shedding of innocent blood. He therefore confirmed
the foreboding of danger which was impending over her; but added that
if she henceforward endeavored to behave with humble submission to his
majesty, she would regain, he did not doubt, his pardon and his favor.
[Sidenote: DISTRESS OF THE QUEEN.]
These words were not enough to deliver Catherine from her disquietude.
Her danger was not concealed from the king; and, unable to endure
the thought that she might die of grief, he had himself carried into
her room. At the sight of the king Catherine rallied sufficiently to
explain to him the despair into which she was thrown by the belief
that he had totally abandoned her. Henry then spoke to her as an
affectionate husband, and comforted her with gentle words; and this
poor heart, till then agitated like a stormy sea, gradually became calm
again.
The king could now forget the faults of the queen; but the queen
herself did not forget them. She understood that she had habitually
assumed a higher position than belonged to a wife, and that the king
was entitled to an assurance that this state of things should be
changed. After supper the next evening, therefore, Catherine rose and,
taking with her only her sister, Lady Herbert on whom she leaned,
and Lady Jane, who carried a light before her, went to the king's
bed-chamber. When the three ladies were introduced, Henry was seated
and speaking with several gentlemen who stood round him. He received
the queen very courteously, and of his own accord, contrary to his
usual practice, began to talk with her about religion, as if there was
one point on which he wished for further information from the queen.
She replied discreetly and as the circumstances required. She then
added meekly and in a serious and respectful tone,--'Your Majesty doth
right well know, neither I myself am ignorant, what great imperfection
and weakness by our first creation is allotted unto us women, to be
ordained and appointed as inferior and subject unto man as our head;
from which head all our direction ought to proceed. And that as God
made man in his own shape and likeness, whereby he being endued with
more special gifts of perfection, might rather be stirred to the
contemplation of heavenly things and to the earnest endeavor to obey
his commandments, even so also made he woman of man, of whom and by
whom she is to be governed, commanded and directed.... Your majesty
being so excellent in gifts and ornaments of wisdom, and I a silly
poor woman, so much inferior in all respects of nature unto you, how
then cometh it now to pass that your majesty in such diffuse causes of
religion will seem to require my judgment? Which when I have uttered
and said what I can, yet must I, will I, refer my judgment ... to your
majesty's wisdom, as my only anchor, supreme head and governor here in
earth, next unto God, to lean unto.' 'Not so by St. Mary,' said the
king; 'you are become a doctor, Kate, to instruct (as we take it),
and not to be instructed or directed by us.' 'If your majesty take it
so,' replied the queen, 'then hath your majesty very much mistaken
me, who have been of the opinion, to think it very unseemly and
preposterous for the woman to take upon her the office of an instructor
or teacher to her lord and husband, but rather to learn of her husband
and be taught by him. And whereas I have, with your majesty's leave,
heretofore been bold to hold talk with your majesty, wherein sometimes
in opinions there hath seemed some difference, I have not done it so
much to maintain opinion, as I did it rather to minister talk, not only
to the end your majesty might with less grief pass over this painful
time of your infirmity,[461] being attentive to our talk, and hoping
that your majesty should reap some ease thereby; but also that I,
hearing your majesty's learned discourse, might receive to myself some
profit thereby; wherein I assure your majesty, I have not missed any
part of my desire in that behalf, always referring myself in all such
matters unto your majesty, as by ordinance of nature it is convenient
for me to do.' 'And is it even so?' answered the king; 'and tended your
arguments to no worse end? Then perfect friends we are now again, as
ever at any time heretofore.' Then, as if to seal this promise, Henry,
who was sitting in his chair, embraced the queen and kissed her. He
added: 'It does me more good at this time to hear the words of your
mouth, than if I had heard present news of a hundred thousand pounds
in money had fallen unto me.' Lavishing on Catherine tokens of his
affection and his happiness, he promised her that such misapprehensions
with regard to her should never arise again. Then, resuming general
conversation, he talked on various interesting subjects with the queen
and with the lords who were present, until the night was advanced;
when he gave the signal for their departure. There may possibly have
been somewhat of exaggeration in Catherine's words. She had not been
altogether so submissive a learner as she said; but she felt the
imperative necessity of entirely dispersing the clouds which the
ill-will of her enemies had gathered over the king's mind, and it is
not to be doubted that in saying what she did she uttered her inmost
thought.
[Sidenote: RECONCILIATION.]
Meanwhile the queen's enemies, who had no suspicion of the turn things
were taking, gave their orders and made their preparations for the
great work of the morrow, which was to confine Catherine in the Tower.
The day was fine, and the king wishing to take an airing went in the
afternoon into the park, accompanied only by two of the gentlemen
of his bed-chamber. He sent an invitation to the queen to bear him
company; and Catherine immediately arrived, attended by her three
favorite ladies in waiting. Conversation began, but they did not talk
of theology. Never had the king appeared more amiable; and his good
humor inspired the rest with cheerfulness. In his conversation there
was all the liveliness of a frank communicative disposition, and the
mirth, it seems, was even noisy.[462] Suddenly, forty halberds were
seen gleaming through the park trees. The lord chancellor was at the
head of the men, and forty bodyguards followed him. He was coming
to arrest the queen and her three ladies and to conduct them to the
Tower. The king, breaking off the conversation which entertained him so
pleasantly, glanced sternly at the chancellor, and stepping a little
aside called him to him. The chancellor knelt down and addressed to the
king, in a low voice, some words which Catherine could not understand.
She heard only that Henry replied to him in insulting terms, 'Fool,
madman, arrant knave!' At the same time he commanded the chancellor
to be gone. Wriothesley and his followers disappeared. Such was the
end of the conspiracy formed against the king's Protestant wife by
Wriothesley, Gardiner, and their friends. Henry then rejoined the
queen. His features still reflected his excitement and anger; but as
he approached her he tried to assume an air of serenity. She had not
clearly understood what was the subject of conversation between the
king and the chancellor; but the king's words had startled her. She
received him gracefully and sought to excuse Wriothesley, saying:
'Albeit I know not what just cause your majesty has at this time to
be offended with him, yet I think that ignorance, not will, was the
cause of his error; and so I beseech your majesty (if the cause be not
very heinous), at my humble suit to take it.' 'Ah, poor soul!' said
the king, 'thou little knowest how evil he deserveth this grace at thy
hands.'[463]